Framed
by SwordStitcher
Summary: Sphinx is being framed. She turns to her favourite mastermind for help, not that Edward Nigma wants to give it. She still has his underwear after all.


A/N: Bat-teen's been waiting patiently for this, Sphinx and Ridder once again! I'm sorry to say that I don't think this is quite on par with the last one I did, but I tried. _So hard_. I hope she likes it.

A guest once asked on 'Of sphinxes and riddles' - Boxers or briefs? I can honestly say I imagined boxers. Green stripy ones.

* * *

Edward Nigma let himself into his dark office with a sigh and dumped his keys in the convenient pot by the door.

He shrugged off his coat and ran a hand through his damp hair; only then he turned to the person at his desk. 'I have a phone you know.'

'You never answer my calls.' She replied as he hung the wet coat on the rack.

'Because I'm meant to be catching you.' He shot back. The light by his desk flicked on and revealed the leather-clad woman practically draped over the wood. He also noted the mug in her hand. 'That had better not be my Colombian coffee.' He snarled.

She merely grinned and blew strands of steam from the lip of the garishly green mug.

He stood and watched her for some time as she savoured some of the most expensive coffee in the world.

'I'm being framed Edward.' She said finally, her eyes never left the mug.

For a second, he thought he'd misheard her. It was only when she looked up that he understood she had actually spoken the words. 'And why should that bother me?' He demanded.

He knew exactly why it should bother him for a number of reasons. First, he wanted the case to be airtight; an accusation like being framed with reasonable doubt cast on the evidence would make her acquittal more of a formality than a slim chance.

Secondly, the fact someone was stitching her up, and it must have been done well for her to turn to him, meant someone was after her and Edward was not a team player. If someone had any kind of chance at the elusive Sphinx then he would end them, swiftly and without mercy. She was his collar, _when_ he chose to collect on it.

'Do I need to list them?' Sphinx grinned, practically reading his thoughts.

Against his better judgement, he found his mouth framing words. 'My fee-'

'I'm afraid I've got no money.' Sphinx laughed.

She barges into his office, drinks his most sacred coffee, perches herself on his desk, scratching the wood with her garishly gold heels in the process, demands his help and then tells him she has no money?!

'You're out of luck then.' He said coldly.

'I'm sure we can negotiate payment.' She cooed.

'You have nothing I want.' He snapped.

'I still have your boxers.' She grinned into the mug.

His face shut down. It was either he stay completely stock still or pick her up and throw her out of the window.

'Get off my desk.' He finally managed, his tone was ice cold.

For once, she obeyed the frosty command and pushed herself from the polished wood.

He realised his mistake when she placed the cup down on the bare wood -which annoyed him greatly- and closed the gap between them effortlessly.

She invaded his personal space easily as he froze, startled by her actions and leaned up and into his ear. For just a second, he thought she was going to proposition him, and he wasn't sure what his answer would be, if he could get his treacherous tongue under his control.

'Will information suffice?' She purred, much to his relief. Her hot breath tickled his ear and a primal part of him he'd desperately tried to crush, scented the air.

He was loathe to take information from her, but her methods of gathering intel was almost as sophisticated as his own. She was bound to know much more about every other criminal than they did of her and frankly that was part of her charm. She was almost as clever and devious as he was, she was interesting and teasing and frustrating wrapped in a coating of leather and she loved nothing more than to play cat and mouse with him.

'What kind of information?' He enquired suspiciously as he stepped back, eager to put some space between them. He had not forgotten just how tricky she was around him, nor how devious she could be in close quarters. To his dismay she quickly reclosed the gap.

'One hears things about certain super-criminals.' She toyed coyly. 'And a certain Bat. I know you still want to know his identity.'

Of course he did. Everyone did. It was _the_ question. Who was Batman? A hand snaked its way around his midriff and he gave a yelp of surprise. 'Fine!' He spat and practically charged for his desk, hoping to put it between them. 'Pro Bono it is!'

'So glad you're seeing things from my perspective Eddie.' She smirked.

'I thought I told you to stop calling me that!' He raged, his face turning a vibrant shade of red.

_In anger._ He thought to himself. _I'm incredibly angry, of course! My stalker's broken into my office, drank my coffee and is now looking for a handout! I'm not even going to comment on the fact she just pinched my bum!_

'You must have some suspects in mind.' He said.

'Well there is Doctor Crane.' She admitted. 'There's Hush, Harley and Joker…' She reeled them off, a slow smirk of pride winding up her features. She moved towards the desk and Edward was forced down into his chair behind the besieged desk.

Thankfully, she merely resumed her seat on the edge and grinned down at him.

'Is there anyone you haven't made an enemy of?' Edward quipped. 'It would be a shorter list if you named your friends.'

'You.' She winked and he felt the recently cooling heat on his cheeks reignite.

That was certainly dangerous territory. Edward coughed and tapped a few keys on his laptop. 'I'll look into it.'

'That's all I'm asking, sexy.'

'_Please_ don't call me that.' He snarled.

'Well if I can't call you Eddie and sexy is out…how about Nigmy-pigmy?'

'…Get the hell out of my office. Now.' He snarled dangerously as she laughed. 'You have about five seconds before I reconsider my proposal.'

'You really know how to make a girl laugh Eddie.'

He desperately tried to hold onto his patience. He counted to ten, he recited the lyrics of Frank Sinatra, he envisioned his happy place…It did him no good. His temper was at boiling point.

'I _told_ you-'

He looked up from his computer but his office was empty, save for him. The window on the other end of the room was open, allowing the curtains to billow in. Curious, he strode to the vacated glass and watched as Sphinx moved across the street towards an idling car.

The shadow of the driver looked familiar; in habit, he noted the features. Judging by the sitting position of the driver they looked about five foot five or six, slim. Long hair. There was also someone in the back seat, smaller, more petite. Both looked to be female.

Sphinx didn't bother getting into the front, she slid into the backseat and the driver pulled into traffic, effortlessly blending in with the other dark coloured suburban cars dodging traffic.

What was it about that woman that both infuriated and attracted him? It was a never ending cycle of hate and lust. Still, she was his capture and anyone looking to take her down before him would be a very sorry person indeed.

And he **would** find out who that would be. Soon.

Just as soon as he discovered the identities of her accomplices. He was **not** stalking his stalker, he was simply coalescing information.


End file.
